


In Every Universe: Because of a Microwave

by BrightlyBound



Series: In Every Universe [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Muggle, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 09:24:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14234226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrightlyBound/pseuds/BrightlyBound
Summary: "At noon Monday through Thursday, they could both be found in the dining hall. So far, they'd traded a few polite smiles, every variation of a salutation, and perhaps a couple of 'excuse me's at the beat-up microwave in the far corner of the room. But yesterday was different."





	In Every Universe: Because of a Microwave

At noon Monday through Thursday, they could both be found in the dining hall. So far, they’d traded a few polite smiles, every variation of a salutation, and perhaps a couple of “excuse me”s at the beat-up microwave in the far corner of the room. But yesterday was different. Yesterday, Ginny’s hand had brushed his when reaching for the napkins. Her stomach had proceeded to swoop, her heart to leap, and her brain to muddle as he snapped his head up to meet her eyes, apologize, and hurry away with a steaming cup of noodles in hand.

Today was going to be different, too. Today, she was going to push her nerves aside and _talk to him_.

She arrived at the cantina at her usual time and immediately scanned the room for his mop of raven black hair. When she spied him trekking to the corner, frozen dinner in hand, she hurried after him, tripping over her trainer laces upon the first step. At one point, he glanced suspiciously behind his back, but Ginny escaped his notice by promptly throwing herself behind a large potted plant. This strange behavior earned her startled stares from her fellow peers, but she paid them no mind. Instead, she took a minute to collect herself and casually strode from her fake fern sanctuary.

“Hi!” she said brightly, setting her lunchbox down on the counter and throwing him her brightest smile.

He did not seem surprised to see her. The corners of his lips were pulled up in a hint of amusement, and he murmured a warm, “Hey,” that had her toes curling in her grimy shoes.

She worried her bottom lip between her lips as she gazed up at him, wondering what on earth she could possibly say next. She had not planned anything further than her greeting.

“How are you?” she blurted.

His smile widened, and a dimple appeared on his left cheek.

She wanted to faint.

“Good. You?”

Nodding her head like a maniac, Ginny said, “Good, good. Great, even!” and busily started unpacking her lunch, letting her hair fall like a curtain around her face to hide her flaming cheeks from his view.

There were a series of beeps, the hum of the microwave starting, then, “It’ll just be five minutes.”

Ginny almost dropped her container of leftover shepherd’s pie. She had not been expecting _him_ to make conversation. She chanced a glance at him. He was tossing the empty frozen dinner box between his hands. She snatched it from his fingertips before she even knew what she was doing.

“Is this any good, then?”

He shrugged, hooking his thumbs into his trousers pockets. “It’s one of the better ones, yeah.”

“Can’t go wrong with the classic meat and two veg.”

Her chest went ice cold. Did she just say that? Did she honestly just-? Meat and two veg? _Meat and two veg?_ What the _fuck_?

“I doubt it’ll look as good as it does on the cover, though,” she hastened to add.

She inwardly winced. Now it sounded as though she was making fun of what he was eating.

He did not seem offended in the slightest, though. “It never does,” he agreed.

She tossed the box back in his general direction, and he caught it swiftly. “When was the last time you had a proper meal?” she asked nonchalantly.

From her peripheral vision, she could see him watching her avidly. She had just begun contemplating drowning herself in the nearby sink when he said, “It’s been a while, actually.”

She peered up at him. This was her chance, her chance to ask him out to lunch or dinner or tea, _anything_.

Instead, she said, “Can’t you cook?”

_Idiot, idiot, idiot!_

Unaware of her inner monologue, he shrugged and answered, “I can, I just prefer not to.”

“My mum threw me out of the kitchen after I burnt ten slices of toast consecutively.”

Ginny almost clapped a hand to her traitorous mouth. Why she was divulging a rather embarrassing fact about herself, she did not know, but his snort of laughter was encouragement enough to continue to make a fool of herself to the stranger she’d become besotted with over the last couple of months.

“How old were you?”

She crossed her arms against her chest. “Thirteen.”

“Thirteen?” he gasped through another bout of laughter.

“What? What’s so funny?” she said needlessly, her lips tilting up from the reaction she was getting from him.

“I was making a proper fry-up for my relatives when I was _nine_ ,” he said, still chortling. “Can you _still_ not make toast?”

“Well…” she hedged.

He stared at her, wide-eyed, amusement forgotten. “Seriously?”

“Er…”

“You haven’t got a toaster?”

“Yes, but…”

“But?”

“I never know which setting to use!”

He fell into hysterics again, and Ginny couldn’t help but join in.

“I’ll just have to teach you someday,” he said, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.

“All right.” Before she could talk herself out of it, remind herself how wrong this could all go, she declared, “We’ll make it a date.”

They both went very still; it felt like they were gazing at one another for an eternity before Ginny looked away, back to her carefully packed lunch.

“Is that all we’d be doing?” he said several long seconds later.

She looked at him again, confused. “What?”

“On our date. Is that all we’d be doing? Making toast?”

“Oh,” she breathed. Her mind went into a jumbled sort of mess because honestly, she could think of hundreds other things she could do with him other than _make toast_. “Well, I mean. Maybe if I knew your name, I could come up with some other form of entertainment.”

Her cheeks were burning, but the stunned look on his face was worth it.

He swallowed hard. “Harry. You?”

She held out her hand like a moron. She wished she could take it back, but then he folded his long fingers around her palm, grinned at her, and everything around them went sort of soft and fuzzy.

“Ginny.”

Later that evening, over a plate or perfectly toasted bread, Harry kissed Ginny and said after coming up for air, “I wish I’d asked you out sooner.”

“Yeah?” she said, then pulled him back for another kiss.

“Mm,” he hummed against her lips. “Kind of glad I didn’t, though.”

She pushed him away, confusion clouding the desire to snog Harry into oblivion. “What do you mean?”

“Seeing you sneak around that plant was _priceless._ ”

Her jaw went slack, then she sobered up and said, “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about!”

“Is that right?” Harry said, the most attractive smirk blooming onto his face. With the gentlest fingertips, he captured her chin and reeled her back in, pressing that deliciously snarky grin onto her mouth. “Tell that to your reflection on the microwave door.”


End file.
